


Thursdays Are For Gold Fingernails

by igrockspock



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/pseuds/igrockspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Thursdays, Janice Rand paints her fingernails gold.  Christine Chapel likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursdays Are For Gold Fingernails

On Thursdays, Janice Rand paints her fingernails gold. She and her sister started doing it seven years ago, mostly to annoy their mother, who disapproved of unorthodox hair and make-up. Now, she keeps the habit just to feel closer to home.

Technically, Thursdays are meaningless in Starfleet; their days are called one, two, three, four, and five to avoid an unnecessary species bias. “Not everyone works on seven day cycles,” Gaila had told her two days after she had enlisted. But Janice, like a lot of people, keeps an Earth calendar superimposed on her Starfleet one, and on Thursday, she paints her nails because she likes her routine. Little routines are important in Starfleet, and even more important on the _Enterprise_ , where bizarre things seem to happen every day. The polish doesn't sparkle quite as brightly in the starship's artificial light, but it still looks nice against her red operations uniform, and she still gets a little thrill from watching her golden fingernails press the buttons on her padd.

And Janice, it turns out, is not the only person who enjoys it. Christine Chapel has been turning up in the deck twelve lounge every Thursday, right after Janice opens her bottle of polish. The third time it happens, Janice kicks a chair back from her table and invites Christine to sit down with a single cocked eyebrow.

“You like to watch me do this, don't you?” she asks when Christine settles into the chair next to her. Though settle really isn't the right word, she thinks. Christine is leaning forward, elbows on the table, her back a long diagonal line that leads straight down to the curve of her behind.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Christine says, not taking her eyes off Janice's long fingernails.

“You know, Christine, all this time we've been serving together, and I never thought to ask if you were seeing anyone.”

“I'm not.” She picks up the bottle of nail polish and turns it absently between her fingers, watching it sparkle in the light. “I left my fiance when I came here.”

That's interesting.

“Really? Why did you do that?”

“He was boring. Everything we did was boring.”

Janice grins, feeling a little brave and a little mischievous.

“Including your sex life?”

“ _Especially_ our sex life.”

“I see.”

She shifts slightly in her chair, and her leg brushes against Christine's. She leaves it there. Christine shifts too, and goosebumps climb up her leg as she feels Christine's smooth skin slide against hers. Whoever designed the miniskirt uniform was clearly a genius.

“Can I ask you something personal, Christine?”

“Please.”

“Was there anything you always wanted to try and you couldn't? When you were with him I mean?”

At that, Christine flushes from her cheekbones all the way down to her neck. But she doesn't move her leg away from Janice's, and the look of determination doesn't vanish from her eyes.

“Well. I never got to be with a woman.”

“Never? That's a shame.”

Janice reaches for the cap and screws it back on the nail polish bottle, letting her arm brush against Christine's as she goes.

“Do you think about it a lot? What you'd like to do with a woman?”

Janice traces one fingernail lightly across the top of Christine's knee. Christine inhales sharply.

“No.” Christine licks her lips. “But I've thought a lot about what I'd like to do with you.”

“Mmm. I think I'd like to hear about that.”

They're the only ones in the lounge, and she locks the door from her padd. Having maintenance override codes for the whole ship is one of the best things about being a yeoman. She turns her chair so that she's facing Christine. Her fingernail slides higher on the other woman's thigh.

“In fact, what I'd really like is if you sat on my lap and told me about it.”

Janice wonders if she's moving things too fast, but Christine nods eagerly. Very slowly, she pushes her chair back from the table, then steps forward until one of her legs is planted on either side of Janice's chair. Janice spreads her hands over Christine's hips and pushes down until she's sitting on her thighs. Her uniform dress is bunched up around her hips, and Janice runs her fingers across Christine's ass, tracing the edges of her exposed underwear.

“I'd really like to see these, Christine. Is it okay if I take your dress off?”

“ _Yes_.” Christine is positively beaming now, and Janice wastes no time sliding the dress over her head, making sure her fingernails graze the newly exposed skin as she goes.

“You're really wet, Christine.”

She can feel it on her thighs.

“That's because you're sexy, Janice.”

Janice settles her hands back on Christine's hips, stroking her skin slowly.

“You look good too, Christine.”

Her underwear is diaphanous and pink and just opaque enough to hide the curls of hair between her thighs. The bra, on the other hand, is just transparent enough to reveal dark nipples.

“Now tell me what you want me to do.”

“Your fingernails. I want to see them against my skin.”

Janice runs her nails down Christine's stomach, just hard enough to leave thin pink marks on her pale skin. She traces her way back up slowly, stopping at the edge of her bra.

“Where else do you want to see them?”

Christine hesitates. Her face, already flushed with desire, turns a deeper shade of pink. Janice squeezes her thigh, tight, leaving behind tiny red indentations. Christine gasps and licks her lips.

“On my nipple. Please. On my nipple.”

Janice doesn't take off the bra – it's far too pretty – but she pushes down one of the flimsy cups until Christine's nipple is exposed. Very slowly, she traces a circle around it, watching it harden as she goes. Christine leans into her touch, arching her back, and Janice leans forward to lick the other nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. When Christine bucks against her, shoving her nipple into Janice's mouth, Janice slides her fingers down to the seam of her panties. Then she pulls back.

“Watch me touch you,” she whispers.

She pushes down the fabric of Christine's underwear until her clit is exposed. Her fingers tangle in the tight blond curls, tugging just a little, and Christine gasps. Then she dips her fingers lower till her one gold nail covers Christine's clit, and she swirls it slowly back and forth. Above her, she feels the muscles of Christine's thighs clench.

“Do you want me to make you come now?”

“Yes.”

Christine's voice is strained. Janice tugs at her hair again, lightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Please. Yes.”

She cups her hand around the back of Janice's head and pushes her forward till a nipple is in her mouth again. Janice slides her fingers downward till she can slip two of them into Christine, who tightens herself around them. It doesn't take long. Her fingers pump inside her, her thumb swirls around her clit – hard this time – and then, when she closes her teeth around Christine's nipple, she comes with one, sharp exhalation. Janice keeps her fingers moving, and Christine kisses her slowly, gasping into her mouth. When her body finally stops shaking, Christine spreads her fingers over her thigh, picks up the nail polish bottle, and begins painting in long, slow strokes. She smiles, looking a little wicked.

“Now it's your turn, Janice.”


End file.
